Broken Promises
by Khaleesi Inara
Summary: He was promised riches and everything he ever wanted. He was promised that after the hell of the Games, a beautiful life lay ahead of him. Cato finds out after winning the 74th Hunger Games, it was all a lie.


**The Hunger Games trilogy is owned by Suzanne Collins. **

**I am making no money from this endeavor. As for any original content: Any likeness, similarities, and resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, and events are unintentional and purely coincidental.**

**WARNING: This story contains forced prostitution and non-con situations. It's very dark and if you have any issues with the above then DO NOT READ.**

Cato stood in front of the shatter proof window in his lavish hotel. He thought the Tribute Tower rooms were luxurious, where he stood made them look like impoverished accommodations fit only for residences of District 12. The carpet was made of silk, every fixture highly polished platinum, and there were crystal embellishments to everything that stood still.

Even he was clothed in the finest attire Panem had to offer. The suit he wore, steel gray pants and jacket with the pop of sky blue shirt (it made his eyes pop his stylist said), was not something that came from District 8. It had to have been made in District 1 were all the luxury items the Capitol citizens enjoyed were made.

He idly wondered if Glimmer had anything to do with the construction of his suit or anything in the hotel for that matter. He distantly remembered her saying she was starting to learn her trade while still training for the Games. He couldn't recall if she was a perfumer, furrer, or what she was learning to craft but she had high hopes that she wouldn't have to finish her schooling. That was before Katniss Everdeen dropped a Tracker Jacker nest on top of her.

He stared out the window, seeing the city lit up with life. Something he was not used to seeing in his own district. The militaristic district had a strict curfew and they all slept at the same time. There in the Capitol, they were free to do as they please; drink and revel at all hours. No one told them what they could and could not do. Not that it mattered. Every need they ever had was taken care of, every wish fulfilled. Rebellion was never a word that entered their minds unless it was talking about the outer districts and the Hunger Games.

Cato Marson, the winner of the 74th Annual Hunger Gamesm leaned against the window and thought of how he came to be there.

"_If two tributes from the same district are the ones left standing, both would be crowned the winners," boomed the voice of Claudius Templesmith. _

_Cato couldn't believe their luck. He had cursed District 12 for their ingenuity for creating the "star-crossed lovers" angle, thinking it made them weak but it was turning to be in District 2's favor as well. He had known Clove since they entered training together. Of all the potential tributes, she was the only one he respected. She had a one track mind that matched his own: win the Hunger Games at all costs._

_When she was reaped he eagerly volunteered. They had a long standing agreement. They would be the only one to kill the other. They were the only ones worthy and capable to take them down. For honor of the District, he would only go against the best and declare himself a winner. Anyone else would fall short compared to him or Clove. No one else was a challenge. _

_They quickly made an alliance with Districts 1 and 4, killing off the younger District 4 tribute right off. Cato saw him as a liability. Although the child was briefly trained and technically a Career, he hadn't trained nearly enough for Cato to allow him into the alliance. _

_He hated District 12 with a smoldering vengeance. No one from the outer districts should ever make it past the bloodbath much less the final eight. _

_Once Peeta had fooled them into an alliance then managed to escape him with just a leg wound and Katniss took out two careers, Cato calmed down and thought rationally; he started to think of the two as actual opponents instead of Game fodder._

_Once Cato and Clove realized that they could both go home, they strategized. They decided that since they knew Peeta was wounded, Clove would dash out to get their backpacks and Cato would stand guard. _

_Clove had a sadistic streak and bloodlust in her that made her beg him to have Katniss. She wanted nothing more than to make the "Girl on Fire" suffer, she wanted to use her blades on District 12 and watch her bleed._

"_No, Clove. We have the chance to go home together. I'm not going to let you leave yourself open to attack just so you can play with your prey," Cato said with no room for argument. _

_The dark haired girl pouted and palmed her knives, itching to use them but saw the wisdom in Cato's words. There were still other threats to their victory such as the monster from District 11 and the ghost from District 5. The time spent cutting off the lips from Katniss among the other atrocities she ached to do would take time. Time they might not have in light of the Feast. _

_So when they saw that District 5 had quickly grabbed her pack and Katniss planned to do the same, Clove did not waste any time killing the girl. District 12 put up a fight, nothing compared to her years of training but it was admirable nonetheless. She swiftly ended the girl's life with one motion, slicing her across her throat. It wasn't showy and it was vastly too quick but it was done._

_The girl on fire was no more. _

_The pair did not wait around for Thresh to collect his pack. They would attack him when they were good and ready. They both had full body armor from the Feast and felt invincible. _

_They walked through the forest, trying to find the girl from District 5._

"_This is it Clove, only two tributes stand in our way," Cato said jovially as they saw the picture of Peeta light the night sky, finally succumbing to his wounds._

"_We'll be hailed as heroes in District 2. The first double winners of the Games and we never had to betray the other," Clove said riding high on the promise of victory._

"_Like you could have won anyway," Cato teased. Clove gave him a quick punch in the arm but the two smiled as they thought of what winning would mean._

"_We'll be neighbors in Victor's Village. Won't have to go to school, train, or take a trade."_

"_Naturally. What will your hobby be?"_

"_Knives...just kidding," she said at Cato's bewildered look. After the games she'd be happy never to throw or see a knife again. That part of her life would be over and she'd be free to pursue anything she wanted. "I was thinking maybe pottery."_

"_Pottery?"_

"_Yes, pottery. Something to keep my hands busy. And it's something I used to do with my dad before my mom put a stop to it. 'It's not something a future Games winner does. Clove, go throw something and make something of yourself.'" she said in the voice of her mother._

_Cato had met her a couple of times at parent's day at the Academy. They had to pretend they were a regular school after all and their parents wanted to make sure their coin was not going to waste._

_Clove's mother was a shrewd hard woman that even he could admit scared him sometimes. It was clear where Clove got her coldness from. It was an asset in the Games but now that would soon be over, she could pursue something other than training and death. _

"_So what are you going to do Cato?"_

"_Me? I don't have a hobby picked out yet but I definitely have a plan."_

"_Which would be what?"_

"_I'm going to marry a pretty girl from school that's too old for the Games and fill the victor's house will children."_

"_How quaint. Didn't know you were such a family man Cato."_

"_Shut up Clove. I'll be the first Marson to win the Games and I don't plan on being the last. My children will all be strong and good looking; they'll dominate in the games and I'll make a Legacy. They'll bring honor to the Marson name and District 2 for generations."_

_Clove stayed quiet and admired such a dream._

_Their dreams of making it out of the arena together was short lived. They did not expect the Gamemakers to let loose such monstrous muttations, the first in Games history so late in the game, especially one that wasn't a Quarter Quell. Normally the tributes would be allowed to finish each other off if the arena didn't but Seneca Crane was out to make his mark._

_The District 5 girl hadn't been able to get a few feet, too tired from malnutrition. She was quickly disposed of by the wolf hybrids. Thresh was still hiding somewhere in the wheat field so that left Clove and Cato out in the open. Easily accessible to the muttations. _

_As quickly as they ran the mutts were faster. There were so many of them, each ripping at their throats; monstrous teeth and all too human eyes. There was one, smaller than most of them but not the smallest; sleek and sinewy. Its eyes were a light gray that was so familiar to him but he couldn't place where. It was the mutt that took Clove down._

_Her last dying scream was for him to run and he did. He hated that he couldn't protect his teammate but no one could blame him for saving his own life. _

_The mutts did their job of putting on a good show. They had taken out a Career and smoked Thresh out. After that they seemed to have lost interest in Cato. _

_It was just Cato and Thresh at the end. The two were evenly matched in strength and if Cato didn't know any better, it seemed as if Thresh thrived in the wheat field, bigger than when he had started the Games. _

_Still in the end it didn't matter. Cato had years of training to him while Thresh only had strength. Like those he fought before, they all fell at his sword. _

_With one stroke, Thresh's life had ended and Snow had what he originally wanted._

_One victor in the arena. _

_Everything had happened in a blur afterwards. The hovercraft picked him up and the Make-Over Center had erased any trauma of the games. His skin was smoothed out, no trace of any wound. No proof he had ever played in the games. _

_He did his interviews, putting on the facade of the cocky boy who always knew he would win._

_He had no time to grieve for Clove. He didn't know if he'd ever get a chance to. _

_He had expected to go home to his big house in the Victor's Village, then six months later do the Victory Tour._

_President Snow had other things in mind._

_Cato had been brought to a nondescript room in a forgettable building in the Capitol. He got the distinct feeling that President Snow did not want this meeting recorded or showcased._

"_This is really just a formality. I know an honorable victor like you would do anything for the pride of District 2, wouldn't you?"_

"_Yes sir," Cato replied simply. Training all of his life had taught him to be obedient in the face of his superiors and one couldn't get higher than President of Panem. There was also an air about the older gentleman that froze Cato in his seat. A danger that surrounded him, the smell of roses and blood permeated the air. President Snow was not a fragile old man as he appeared, he was more dangerous than the arena could ever be. _

"_The citizens of the Capitol certainly love their victors. They had a fondness of Katniss Everdeen and the Mellark boy. Everyone loves a good love story but what they really love is a winner. The Beast of the Arena they called you. All brutal strength with the face to rival Finnick Odair. Quite the dichotomy you make Cato. Usually it's District 1 with the classic good looks and sexual appeal but every so often the other districts turn out a Tribute that captivates both their baser desires and bloodlust. Do you understand what I'm getting at Cato?"_

"_No sir," he answered honestly. He knew he was good looking, he had been told that all his life. The trainers at the Academy had told him he'd be a sure winner in the games because he had looks and skills. He wasn't sure what that had to do with anything now that he had played the Games and won._

_Snow had given a derisive laugh and looked as if he understood something that was above Cato's head._

"_I guess you wouldn't. District 2 is known for its discipline and sole focus on the Games. They don't leave much room for the more carnal aspects of life. It's why it turns out so many winners but you'd be the first of your district to join a special group of victors."_

"_Special group sir?"_

"_Yes, every once in a while there comes a victor that the Capitol citizens can't get enough of. There's Finnick Odair from District 4. There's Cashmere Showalter from District 1 to name a few. The citizens want to not only be apart of their lives through over saturation through media but have a taste of them, if you will. And they are willing to pay greatly for such a privilege. You are one such victor Cato."_

_The young man from District 2 still didn't understand but Snow made it perfectly clear. He was to be sold to the highest bidder in sexual servitude or else his family and dream of a legacy would be threatened. Victors were allowed to say "no" but Snow made it clear it would not be to his or anyone's benefit if he refused. He talked of Johannah Mason and the repercussions of her refusal to submit._

_To save his family and the honor of his name, he said he would do whatever what was asked of him._

"_Splendid," the President said with a smile that sent shivers down Cato's back. _

That's how he ended up in a posh hotel room and richly dressed. He awaited his first "customer" that had paid the highest price to bed him first. He only hoped it wasn't some ancient woman with more money than she knew what to do with.

His throat clenched tight and he fought down bile as Seneca Crane entered the room. He knew he was selling his body for the whims of Capitol citizens but it never entered his mind that males would be interested in him as he had never entertained the thought of being with one.

The celebrated Head Gamemaker was pristine in his all black suit with red accents, his signature beard cut with precision. No hair out of place or clothe out of line.

Cato felt Seneca's eyes as they roamed his body. He felt sick already from the predatory smile the Head Gamemaker gave.

Seneca surveyed his purchase for the night and liked what he saw. The youth was tall and had perfect features; strong jawline and vivid blue eyes. Cato was beautiful in the arena, deadly with just a touch of madness. Perfect tribute for his Games. President Snow allowed him to win the bidding war for the victor, a gift for a memorable and best received Hunger Games. The president had not been happy when Claudius announced the rule change but it had ended up in his favor. The citizens were happy with the hope that their star-crossed lovers would be able to have a happily ever after; they couldn't blame Crane or the Games if they weren't able to survive. The citizens soon forgot all about Everdeen and Mellark when they celebrated the end of the Games. The citizens were fickle at best and really just wanted another reason to revel in their riches and blood.

Cato seemed stunned at his presence, the naive boy probably thought he'd be catering to females exclusively.

Seneca loved the fear that radiated off the blonde boy. A trained killer was reduced to a quivering mess right before his eyes.

"A child in the body of a man," Seneca commented as he circled Cato, taking in his terror and the brave front he tried to portray.

"So eager to kill in the arena, laughing even as the slain cower before you. Trained by a secret Academy that we all pretend doesn't exist. Trained you to be strong. Trained you to kill without remorse. Tell me Cato, did they train you for what comes after the Games?"

Cato remained speechless, unsure how to answer. Training was illegal in Panem but the Head Gamemaker just admitted that everyone knew what District 1, 2, and 4 had been doing, training those who could afford it since they were eight years old. They had trained him in all areas of combat and weaponry but never anything about their life after winning. He had always assumed that freedom came with winning and he could do whatever he wanted. He never thought that he would need to know anything further than how to win.

"I suppose not," Crane went on taking Cato's silence as ignorance. "They couldn't guarantee a win after all. They certainly couldn't predict who would gain such favor from the Capitol. Although I must say with your looks and strong body, they should have had an inkling. Shame on them but not to worry, your training starts now."

Without another word, Seneca's lips were on his. Cato's first instinct was to flinch away but the black haired man's held his head in his hands, keeping him there to take whatever he dealt out. The harsh kiss was nothing he had ever felt before, the lips soft but the intricate beard rough against his delicate youthful skin.

Seneca's hands roamed the body that he bought with much coin, feeling how unnatural and tense Cato felt at his touch. He smiled into his kiss, heady with the power he held over the boy who had taken so much pleasure in killing. Cato dominated in the arena but in that hotel room, he held all the power.

The blond took no pleasure in the kiss or touch, he wanted nothing more than to flee to the bathroom and vomit the scant dinner he had eaten beforehand.

"So tense Cato," Seneca commented with a condescending glee. "It's OK. I understand, your first time and all."

Cato's jaw clenched at the reminder that this was his first sexual experience. He suddenly wished he had ignored his upbringing about sex; how it was dishonorable to take a girl before marriage and to father bastards. He very much wished he had taken Glimmer up on her offer to "have fun" during the Games. He knew it was a ploy to ingratiate herself to him and solidify their alliance. She had thought to replace Clove in his affections but there was no way that was happening. Still, a quick public encounter with the girl from District 1 was preferable to selling himself to the man before him.

"It is the reason you fetched such a hefty amount after all. Here, I have something for you," he said as he produced a translucent purple pill. He placed the capsule against his lips and he had no other choice but to take it. It was made perfectly clear that any resistance would result in the death of his family.

He felt the effects of the drug as soon as it hit his stomach. His skin flushed with heat and blood rushed to his cock, pleasing Seneca greatly. The dark haired man kissed him again and he hated that his body was reacting at all.

Seneca no longer had patience to wait for him and quickly started to undress them. Gone were his jacket and shirt, leaving only the gray slacks with his obvious erection. He pushed him down onto the bed, kissing him again.

Cato had gone almost two weeks in the wilderness of the arena without bathing and he never felt dirtier than he did at that moment. He involuntarily moaned as Seneca cupped his member, the feeling overwhelming to him under his drug induced fervor.

Nothing felt more shameful than the pleasure that came from his touch. He undid Cato's pants and his mouth watered at what was revealed to him.

"Such a pretty cock; big, smooth, and long. They sure know how to make them in District 2," Seneca said lewdly.

He swallowed his cock in one motion, unable to resist tasting what was in front of him any longer. He reveled in the power he held over the youth. He knew that Cato was not interested in men, not in the slightest. But he didn't have any choice but to be with him, no choice but to enjoy the warmth of his mouth and make him feel things. He was the one in control and all the victor could do was sit back and take it.

Cato was lost in the heat of Seneca's mouth, never had felt such pleasure. He was warm and his tongue talented as it danced across his member, putting the perfect amount of suction. It felt amazing, Cato could not deny that; but it was wrong. This should not be pleasurable and he could not understand how his body could betray him to such a vile act.

With his inexperience it did not take Cato long to spill into Seneca's mouth. To add to his shame, the Head Gamemaker kissed him immediately afterwards, forcing him to taste his own seed. Still fearing for his family, he reacted to the kiss, partaking in the passion even though he felt nothing but disgust.

"So quick to come Cato but I'm sure a good looking boy like you will get plenty of practice to control himself," Seneca said cruelly, poking fun at his inexperience but presenting his future as a toy for the Capitol.

"On your knees boy," he commanded darkly, unable to wait any longer.

Cato silently obeys, trying his best to control the fear that coursed through him. The only comfort he had was that he no longer had to look at him and tried to pretend he was anywhere but that hotel room.

Seneca's eyes hungrily took in the sight before him, Cato's strong back and legs open to him. He delicately traced his fingers down the blonde's back, smiling at his slight flinch. He reached over to the nightstand and took out the oil the hotel provided. As much as he wanted to see Cato's blood he had only paid for privilege of the first night, he was under strict instructions to not ruin him for the others.

He inserted one finger into Cato, the boy's first impulse was to tense up and try to expel the intrusion. Seneca's cock ached to be in the boy, knowing how tight he was going to be but controlled himself, continuing to prepare him.

The first finger was not painful but Cato felt it unnatural and wrong. The second finger still didn't hurt but he felt himself stretch to accommodate him. His eyes teared at the violation but reprimanded himself to stay strong and not betray the weakness he felt.

Seneca had inserted a third finger, motioning his hand in and out of Cato; mimicking the action his manhood would produce.

"Oh my beautiful victor, you are ready."

"_No, I'm not. I'm not ready for this. I'll never be ready for this," _he thought desperately.

Seneca did not care if Cato was ready, he was done waiting for the tightness that awaited him.

In one quick motion, he rammed his entire length into Cato; enjoying the pained groan that he elicited from the blonde. He slowly pulled out and in, making him feel every inch of him. He had never felt such a heady high from another's pain, their unwillingness.

Cato tried to block out what was happening to him, the nightmare his life had become. But Seneca was not about to let him, as he pumped inside him faster and faster; he clenched his hand on his hip, bringing Cato back to reality. He angled his thrusts to hit his prostate and it made Cato see stars. Again, he unwillingly felt pleasure and his manhood reacted accordingly; throaty moans escape from him unbidden.

Seneca took the opportunity break the blonde down further.

"If they could see you now. The Beast of the Arena, pride of District 2 on his knees taking it from the Head Gamemaker; moaning like a whore."

Cato could no longer hold the tears back as humiliation washed over him.

Seeing Cato's hot tears and hearing him weep proved too much for Seneca as he came violently into him.

As he felt the elder man's seed spill into him, he felt he wanted nothing more than to die and disappear.

He pulled out of the teen and sat at the edge of the bed, Cato curled into himself, closing his eyes and wished himself away.

The older male reached into the night stand and pulled out a vial with a bright blue powder. He brought the substance to his nose and sniffed shook his head as he felt a renewed energy as the drug took effect. He pulled the shamed teen to him and kissed him frantically.

Cato didn't understand what was going on. Seneca had gotten what he paid for and all Cato wanted to do was take a shower to wash away the invisible slime that seemed to be coating him. He was even more bewildered that Seneca's cock was hard again so soon. Even his own limited experience with pleasuring himself, he couldn't get hard again so quickly after orgasm.

"Night has just begun boy. I'm going to get my coins worth from you," he said as he smiled evilly.

He thrust into Cato without any preamble or warning, not interested in Cato's pleasure only his own. He was wild and brutal as he slid in and out of him. His head thrown back in pain, not ready for another onslaught as he was sore from the first encounter. His nails dug into Seneca's back, trying to brace himself against the pain. It only spurned the older man on more, lost in sensation; unable to tell pleasure from pain.

Still through the agony, Cato's body reacted to the constant stimulation and his own member grew hard again. Shame doubled over him as he didn't know if it was his body betraying him or the drug working in his system. Still it did not abate the horror as pleasure convulsed through him. Seneca reached between them and griped his member; pumping up and down Cato's turgid cock. Smiling again at the power he held over the boy as he came in his hand.

After what seemed an eternity to Cato, Seneca shuddered above him; spent.

Again, Seneca sniffed at the vile and fed him purple pills through the night. Ravishing him for hours on end, forcing him to commit acts against his will. He had tasted his own seed and Seneca's as he taught the blond to how to please him with his mouth.

He would have vomited as soon as the ejaculate had touched his tongue had Seneca not promised that his mother would suffer the same fate if he were to do so. Seneca came again at the sight of Cato swallowing his cum, the warm spray coating his face. The cruel Gamemaker had forbade him to wipe it off, saying he "liked the way it looked on him."

Seneca finally tired of him as the sun rose on the horizon. A new day to his new life as the Capitol's newest whore. Cato lay motionless in the cooling sticky mess of their coupling, hating that some of it was his own.

"That was worth every pretty coin I spent on you. I can already feel the jealous stares of my fellow citizens that I got the first night with the Beast of the Arena. _The _mighty Cato," Seneca jibed at him as he got dressed.

Cato remained silent, unable to speak for fear he'd go into a rage or break down and cry. Either way he knew there would be dire consequences.

"Unfortunately I cannot keep you all to myself but once you make your rounds I'll be able to set up another 'date.'"

Cato couldn't fathom another night like that one, desperately wanting Seneca to leave him to his despair.

"Here's a token of my affection. See you around Cato," he said as if he were a lover.

As soon as Seneca left, he looked at the small box he had left behind. A morbid curiosity as to what he would leave for their night together.

He opened the black box, incredibly simple with just a red ribbon for the Capitol who favored garishly bright colors and big embellishments. Inside lay an exquisite watch that even a victor would not be able to afford. Platinum wrist band with an onyx face, dotted with black diamonds. Again it was simple for the Capitol's standard but Seneca had excellent taste. It was something Cato would have chosen for himself if he were to take on Capitol's extravagant ways and get a watch that was something more than his District 2's utilitarian sense of style.

He tossed the watch that probably cost more than his parent's house in District 2 and his ten years at the Academy put together violently to the side and rushed to the bathroom. Finally he was able to expel the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He refused to think of what was escaping, not just the small food he had eaten the night before but the drugs and semen forced down his throat. Once his stomach would offer nothing more, he rushed into the shower; setting the water to the highest temperature it would go. It scalded him but it was better than the sick feeling that covered him like a second skin. He fought the urge to cut off everything exposed, anything to rid himself of the filth of Seneca's touch.

Under the harsh spray, he finally cried for everything he had lost. No one could ever call him innocent, not with the blood on his hands but he cried for the dashed hope of a family life. No woman of worth would touch him now and he wouldn't ever sully one. He cried for the lives he had taken in the arena, realizing they had died for nothing. He lost his humanity for a hallow promise. He cried for Clove, his best and only friend. Glad she gone so she wouldn't have to go what he was going through but needing his best friend's comfort and understanding. He cried for the hopeless future that lay ahead of him.

A Capitol shower never ran out of hot water and once Cato realized the disgusted feeling was not going away, he limped out of the shower and got dressed. His skin was rubbed raw and his style team would be horrified at the ugly red hue. He was more upset that despite his abrasive scrubbing, he still felt dirty. The ghost of Seneca's touch still lingered and he feared it always would.

He didn't care what he wore, disregarded what the trends were of the day. He opted for something simple, something that reminded him of home. He wore a pair of simple black slacks and a black polo. He couldn't stay in the hotel room, too many memories and the scent of their coupling lingered in the air. He needed to get away but he had an inexplicable fear of facing the public. He knew, just knew that they would know what happened. They probably knew he was for sale but he was scared they would know the details. They would somehow see his mouth upon Seneca or how the dark haired man brought him to pleasure.

They would see what a true whore he was.

He couldn't stay in the room and he couldn't go out. So that left him with the roof garden. It was still very early in the morning and he doubted the perpetually partying citizens be up, probably sleeping off the night before.

The garden was a beauty of nature among the stone work and metal of the city. Seemed vastly out of place and he wondered if he'd ever enjoy the outdoors again. He felt as if he could never enjoy anything every again with what his life was to be.

Brutus, his mentor, had spoken of the vast forests of District 7 and the beaches of District 4. All things he was going to see on his Victory Tour. He had hoped to be witness to something natural and growing rather than just the cold stone of his home district or the horrors of the Games. Now it seemed as if it wouldn't matter because everything was tainted.

Winning was not what was promised to him. He realized the truely lucky ones died in the arena, the true winners knew the peace of death. Again he felt rage and jealousy at the District 12 tributes. The horror of that life would never touch them again.

He looked at the people below, nothing more than colorful ants at the height he was at. He wonder what ugliness they hid behind the make up and wigs. He had thought them nothing more than silly pampered clowns but he had seen the brutality they hid underneath.

He looked over the edge of the hotel, noticing how high he was and how easy it would be to just...

"There's a force field around roof. So don't even think about jumping because it won't do any good," a somber voice said and broke him out of his thoughts.

"I wasn't thinking of jumping," Cato said defensively. He wasn't, not really. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, only that he was up very high and how easily it would be to end it all. That wasn't suicidal, they were just mere thoughts. Besides, he knew the consequences of what would happen if he did anything to displease Snow.

The man talking to him was not a Capitol resident, that much he knew. He had bronze hair and aqua green eyes. Very striking eyes that told him he understood the hell he was going through.

It was Finnick Odair, the winner of the 64th Hunger Games. He was the notorious Lothario of the Capitol, his list of lovers a mile long but Cato knew better now.

They both had matching dead and numb eyes, a part of the same brotherhood.

"It doesn't get any easier," Finnick said without emotion as he popped what Cato saw were sugar cubes. "If anything it gets harder. The first night is...disgusting beyond anything you could ever imagine...but you know that. As you make your rounds you think you get used to it then you get the citizens whose taste run...dark. You're going to want to kill yourself. Sometimes you will come close to succeeding but Snow's reach is everywhere. You'll die when he's ready for you to die and not a moment sooner. I've been doing this for eight years with no end in sight. Maybe you'll be luckier and they'll tire of you but I woudn't hold your breath. Whatever reason you had that made you comply you'll be reminded of. He'll take what you love and make it your worst nightmare. He won't take everything away but enough to put you in your place."

Finnick was not making idle conversation, he was preparing Cato for his future.

"It's not all bad. Your family is safe and if you do well, they could be set for life. There are the gifts, jewels and property beyond your wildest dreams. You'll be able to afford things even a victor could never hope to attain," he said in an ironic tone.

Cato knew that the male was trying to show him the good side to his situation but he knew better. All of the riches and jewels were not worth what he went through that night. Would not be worth the nights to come.

Everything he was told about the Games was a lie. He had no honor and no longer took pride in his win. Winning was not all that he had gone through and what he was continuing to go through.

He was warned that partaking in the Games would be hell but the win would make everything worth it.

That was a lie.

When he entered the arena he entered hell and he never came out.

**A/N: So dark...yeah. I was inspired by Finnick's story of how he was so popular with the Capitol citizens and that Cato, portrayed by Alexander Ludwig, would be popular and sold as well. Seneca just felt like he'd be a sexual predator with a cruel streak...I mean with that beard how can he not be? Amiright? Seriously though, anyone who would make it a career in designing death arenas for children is not a good person and I imagine their sexual tastes would be twisted as well.**

**Prostitution of gladiators was common in ancient Rome and there was no distinction between the sexes or what their preference was. I can't imagine what kind of hell they would be going through but here's my take on it. Feel free to PM me with any suggestions on how to make it more realistic if anyone has any. **


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